


Impatience

by Rosie_Rues



Category: Tamora Pierce - Tortall series
Genre: M/M, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007, recipient:Tracy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:39:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues





	Impatience

Jonathan knew that it was unfair on Alan (never Alanna, not in public) to leave her alone in the middle of the Rogue's Court, but he needed to get out of the heat and noise, away from the prostitutes with sweat-pearled breasts and the sniggering thieves who still jostled him hopefully, years after he'd first came here. He had to escape the knowing looks and the sly mutters about how _close_ young Jon seemed to his friend. He heard enough of it, in both courts, and it ate away at him, making him question which he wanted more: the girl who no one else saw or the candid boy she seemed.

There was a pad of footsteps behind him, and he stiffened. He was known as the Rogue's friend, and he didn't think anyone would be stupid enough to attack him, but he was prepared for a fight, and would welcome it.

"That's no way to treat a lady," a soft voice growled in his ear, and Jon didn't quite relax. In this matter alone, George Cooper was not his friend.

"What would you know about it?" he asked. George would not kill him, but he wouldn't pull his punches either.

"More than you, lad, if you've started treating your friends as badly as you do your light-of-loves."

"What of a friend who becomes a light-of-love?" Jon asked, curling his own fists in readiness.

Instead he found himself dragged into the stable. He gasped as George shoved him against a wall and opened his eyes. In the dim light, he could see more concern than anger on the Rogue's face.

"What is wrong with you today, lad?" George murmured, a hand turning his cheek.

Jon closed his eyes and didn't answer. There were too many small answers, swirls of politics and power games, of hints and slights knitting together to create alliances and enemies, too many rumours which would increase his stature and too many rumours that could weaken him, and at the heart of it all was a girl who fought like a man, tempting and confusing him.

"That bad, eh?" George murmured. "Stay here. If I send you home now, you'll get killed looking for a fight."

"I can look after myself," Jon said, tensing.

He got a twisted, half-amused smile, and then George slipped away. To Jon's shock, he heard a bolt click on the other side of the stable door.

Unlocking it with his Gift would have been simple, but it would have meant another friendship damaged. Instead, he leaned against the wall and waited. He could hear the tavern noises through the wall, muffled and unclear.

"I've sent our lass home," George said when he came back. "She's worried, but she trusts me with you."

"She's a good judge of character," Jon said and meant it as an apology.

George grinned at him. "And she's yet to give up on you, so you can breathe easy, lad. Come upstairs and we'll see if it's anything I can fix."

Jon had been in George's rooms before and found them comfortable. He took a chair gratefully, and listened to George talk about city gossip, throwing in an occasional comment of his own. It wasn't until George offered useful advice that he realised he was spilling out his own problems.

"My Court is smaller than yours," George said, watching him thoughtfully, "and dishonest in a different way, but people are people. There's not much difference between a prostitute and a princess, when you come down to it."

Jon was actually surprised at the sound of his own laugh, which told him how much he had needed this. "Everyone's alike in the dark, right?"

"Not exactly," George said, laughing too, leaning in close, and maybe it was the wine and maybe it was the warmth of a friendship safe after all, but one of them started the kiss and they both continued it into urgency, hands roaming and clothes slipping away. George's body was hard and lean above his, and it both startlingly different and vastly simpler than any experience he'd ever had with girls' curves and sighs.

He slept still tangled with the other man, body limp with relief, and it wasn't until morning that he thought to ask, "What now?"

"You go home with a clear head," George said, fingers tangling in Jon's hair. "You get that girl of ours to forgive you - and she will because she cares for you more than you deserve. Then find yourself a clear path, and stick to it."

"Easy to say," Jon murmured. The morning sun was warm against his shoulders, and he curved comfortably against George's side.

"If you lose your way again, come back to me," George said. "I'll help you where I can."

"Mmm," Jon said, drifting on the edge of sleep. "Are you angry? About this and about Alanna?"

George chuckled, a tickle of lips against Jon's shoulder. "Luckily for me, lad, I have a quality both of you lack."

"Oh," Jon murmured, turning his hips towards a slowly wandering hand. "What's that?"

"Patience," George told him, and Jon laughed and reached to pull the other man's hand down. When George began to stroke, his hand firm and steady, Jon sighed and settled back against the pillows.

Impatience had its own rewards.

  



End file.
